The Core Room was still the same as when Viktor departed. At the heart of the chamber, the crystalline form of Celeste was suspended midair above the dais, radiating a rhythmic azure glow as it waited for his return. Striding across the room toward the Core, he gazed at the murals on the wall that chronicled the past triumphs of the dungeon.

  The panels there depicted scenes of his enemies vanquished. Scene of Sebekton tearing Lahmia’s head off with his savage maw, scene of Sebekton mercilessly cleaving the red-haired warrior woman in two halves, scene of Sebekton obliterating Manfred’s skull with a crushing strike. But what would the scene showing the victory over the Dungeon Reavers look like? Fianna had given up her life to defeat the intruder, and was torn apart in the process. How would the murals remember her? A martyr bathed in radiance, or an expendable pawn that had been well-used? Or would she even be remembered at all?

  [You are back, Master.]

  Was it just him, or had the tone of the Dungeon Core changed slightly? It sounded a bit less monotonous and lifeless today.

  He gave it a nod. “Show me the battle report.”

  [Understood, Master.]

  Fatalities: 5 Merfolk.

  Fianna was one of them. She was just a statistic now. Her death had been reduced to a number, one among many in a grand equation.

  He wondered what had happened to the mermaid after her death. Her body had disintegrated, but what about her soul? Would it simply fade away, or be condensed into essence?

  He glanced at the Dungeon Core. “Hey, Celeste, what happens to a minion’s soul after it dies?”

  [Master, have you ever asked yourself why we can only harvest essence from the intruders, but not from our own dead minions?]

  That was a very good question. Viktor had never given it much thought, but now he couldn’t help but find it strange. “Why?” he asked.

  [Because only humans have souls, while non-humans do not. So, to answer your question: nothing happens. How can anything happen to something that was never there to begin with?]

  The answer left him momentarily speechless. “N-none of them? Goblins? Merfolk? Acolytes? Even Sebekton?”

  [The Acolytes of the Deep are an interesting case. Some of them do have souls, those who were once human. But their souls belong to their god, so they are not mine to harvest. When they die, their souls go to the Great One. Turns out, eternal servitude is, indeed, eternal. The contract cannot be nullified, even after death.]

  Sebekton and Fianna. Their appearances were different from his and from each other’s, but the way they talked, the way they acted, the way they showed their emotions made it hard to believe they were soulless. Had he been blind and interacted with them solely through conversation, he would have assumed they were just normal people from some distant land with strange customs and beliefs.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why do only humans have souls? What makes us special?”

  [I do not know. That is what the Gods have decreed.]

  Gods really loved to play favorites, didn’t they? He couldn’t really complain, since he was among those who benefited from such arbitrary decisions. After all, without a soul, how could he come back from death? He knew that he should be grateful for the Gods’ favor, but still, there was some lingering bitterness that was hard to wipe away.

  “But you, Celeste,” Viktor asked, “you do have a soul, right?”

  [Yes, I do. I was once human, after all. I retain my soul even after I... changed.]

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Yes, you had changed. A lot. He was sure of it even though he knew absolutely nothing about the Dungeon Core’s previous life. It struck him as ironic that the Core was considered human, while Sebekton and Fianna were not. With the latter, there were things to talk about, but with Celeste, it was all just reports and exchanges of information.

  [Master.]

  “What?” asked Viktor.

  [I want to apologize for what happened to Fianna. I never meant for things to happen that way.]

  “Why do you need to apologize? She getting chosen is just bad luck—” Then the realization dawned on him. “It’s no coincidence, right? You picked her on purpose.”

  [Yes... I am... so sorry...]

  Why? He wanted to snap. But instead, he paused, taking a deep breath, and tried to look at it from Celeste’s perspective. The Dungeon Core didn’t know his plan. It believed that he had one, but it did not know what it was exactly. So it couldn’t have known he meant to sacrifice the chosen mermaid. By keeping Fianna on standby rather than sending her into battle, it had, from its point of view, placed her in the safest possible position. The plan had backfired in the worst possible way, of course, but the intention was clear. Celeste had wanted to protect Fianna.

  But why?

  Maybe, just maybe, the Dungeon Core thought that the mermaid was a friend of his, so it wanted to keep her safe? Was that the reason?

  Now he was sure of it. Celeste’s tone was indeed a bit different today. There was something else in it, subtle but unmistakable. Was it... regret?

  Viktor looked around the chamber. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the furniture, the murals. Everything in this room had been designed, constructed, and maintained by Celeste. The Dungeon Core had made it to accommodate the Guardians, most of whom were not even here yet. And then, there was Sebekton’s house. Completely unnecessary, but he was certain the Crocodilian was grateful for it.

  Could he really say that something—or someone—who did all of that had no emotion?

  If it was wrong to judge someone’s humanity by their appearance, then he shouldn’t do the same based on their voice, should he?

  “You’re not to blame,” Viktor said, turning to Celeste. “I should’ve let you know my plan. The responsibility falls on me.”

  [But...]

  “If you keep dwelling on one sacrifice, how can we move forward?” he asked. “You knew from the start that the path we took would be built on corpses, didn’t you?”

  [Yes... I did...]

  “Then let’s press on, without looking back. What’s done is done,” he said with a smile. “Let’s focus on our goals. I’ll make you the greatest Dungeon Core to ever exist, and you’ll help me reclaim my power, my Thaumaturgy.”

  [I understand, Master. I will not falter again.]

  “Good.” Viktor let out a deep breath. “You’re now Level 11, right? Let’s see your current stats.”

  [Understood, Master.]

  The Dungeon Reavers’ invasion had cost him half of his forces, but in return, Celeste had harvested a significant amount of essence. She has leveled up and become much more powerful. New floor, new Guardian, new skills, and most importantly, new domains to unlock.

  “What type of domains can we choose?” Viktor asked. If he remembered it correctly, Celeste had said that the option he didn’t choose last time, Domain of Fire, would still be available now.

  [Master, we can choose to unlock either the Domain of Earth, the Domain of Air, or the Domain of Fire.]

  So now I have three choices instead of two, huh?

  Each of the domains represented a different kind of power, a different way for him to shape his dungeon, to build his forces, to plan his strategy. Rushing into a decision was unwise. This was a very important matter, after all, one that required careful consideration. He needed to take his time to think it through before making his final choice.

  “I’ll choose the domain later,” he told Celeste. “Let’s see something else. Show me the skill Mutate Lesser Minion.”

  [Understood, Master.]

  Mutation, huh? Viktor had always known that higher-level Dungeon Cores had the ability to mutate their minions, granting them new abilities while, well, altering their forms. And what this particular mutation did was to fill their bodies with gas. The constant gas leakage might not be very useful—in fact, it could even be harmful to the other minions around it—while the poison immunity was just a minor bonus, obviously not the main reason for choosing this mutation. No, the mutated minions were meant for suicide missions, where they would die in order to inflict damage on their enemies.

  That was... a valid tactic, but not an idea he wanted to entertain at the moment. Definitely not today.

  Viktor took a deep breath. “Celeste,” he said, “I think that’s enough for now. It’s been a long day, and I need to rest. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

  [Understood, Master. Take care and stay safe on your way home.]

  “I will.” He smiled. “See you.”